


Rubber Duck Artistry

by Atalto



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (Man I hope I used that tag right), Big Name Fan au, College AU, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, M/M, Modern AU, Shance AU Bang 2018, Shiro is a fanartist, lance is a writer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 08:51:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16829212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atalto/pseuds/Atalto
Summary: Shiro, a well known fanartist within the GoLion fandom, is stalling. His art isn't what it used to be, and with finals closing in, his creativity is running dry. His flatmate isn't helping, and his friends are suggesting he buckle down and focus on college despite him wanting to do nothing but draw.It's times like these that he's thankful for Blue's fics, and his general companionship from the other side of a Tumblr DM. They're friends, and Shiro's happy with that.(Except he's not, since he has no idea how to control this crush on this man he doesn't know)That is, until he meets Lance, Crydor Creamery's newest barista, who leaves his number on a napkin with a wink and a flash of a shaky grin.And then the fics start becoming scarily familiar, and details that he could blame on Blue's creative mind are suddenly events that happened yesterday.But Blue and Lance couldn't be the same person, right?That would be way too easy.





	Rubber Duck Artistry

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!!!!!
> 
> I CAN FINALLY POST MY BABY!!!!!  
> This is my hella thing created for the shance au bang, and I hope y’all like it! It was a bit rocky at times but here we are, eventually :’D  
> I’d like to thank my lovely beta Adi (somebodypleasehugshiro) for not killing me every time I spelt ‘college’ as ‘collage’, and my wonderous artists Enrika, G.G, and Nogu!!!!! Their work is gorgeous and y’all should definitely check it out!
> 
> Enjoy!!!

**BlueSharpshooter Just posted**  
_You're going to love this, LionChampion_

"Hey, Shiro? Your phone's buzzin'."

Shiro hummed, not looking up from his tablet as he rounded off another line. "I know, don't worry - it'll be a notification or something."

From his position on the couch, Keith grunted in dismissal - he knew his flatmate always got annoyed at his tendency to ignore his phone like the plague, but he really couldn't be bothered to check it. He was kind of in the middle of something, anyway, and he knew Keith was too wrapped up in his video game to thrust the phone in his face, just incase it was his mom or someone.

It was such a rare sight - Keith, relaxed enough to lie on their ratty thirdhand couch wearing only boxers and an old oil stained hoodie Allura got him last Christmas - that he decided it had to be drawn. Saved for the portfolio, at least, but a memory to be kept and framed later on nonetheless. If he grovelled hard enough, Shiro could probably convince him to let him post it later, touched up and redrawn as Isamu Kurogane once he felt he could be bothered to boot his computer up.

That would be a headcanon to share with Blue later: 'Hey, ever considered Moody screaming at Monster Hunter for nigh-on three hours because he's shit at it but doesn't want to admit it?'

Finally, Keith groaned, throwing the controller on the floor with a dinosaur-esque cry. "This is _bullshit_ ," he spat, finally getting to his feet to pad over to the console, "I have been on this mission for three days now - three days, Shiro! I swear to god-"

"Do you want me to try?" Shiro offered, frowning before placing the tablet on the breakfast bar next to him and slipping his phone in his pocket, "I'll check my phone if you let me."

Keith arched an eyebrow, before settling back on the couch with an exasperated sigh as Shiro's phone buzzed again. "Fine," he said flatly, handing Shiro the controller reluctantly, "but only because it seriously sounds like someone's trying to talk to you. Also, if you beat this first time, I will cry."

"A worthy reward, then-"

"And you're not allowed to draw me."

"Darn," he said with a grin, settling into the space vacated by Keith's legs that were soon kicked over his lap, "looks like I'm just gonna' have to lose and give up, leaving you to struggle through for the next week until you-"

"Shiro," Keith whined, sitting up to hit his head against Shiro's shoulder, "Just beat the damn level."

"As you wish," Shiro replied, settling the controller into his hands comfortably, "give me like, ten minutes"

Sure enough, the screen flashed with victory several minutes later, and Shiro fell back with a satisfied grin, handing the controller back to Keith with a quick, lazy movement. "Good enough for you?"

Keith huffed, snatching the controller and slamming start with an angry thumb. "Fine," he grumbled, "you can go away now."

"And here I was, thinking that I might just get a 'thank you'," Shiro replied with a laugh, pulling his phone out of his sweats pocket.

_BlueSharpshooter sent a text post - >.._

**[BlueSharpshooter]** _wink wonk ;)_

"Who is it?" Keith asked absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the small television.

Shiro shrugged, small smile growing on his face. "Blue," he replied, "he's just posted again - don't mind if I read it, do you?"

"Stranger danger." Keith shrugged, shuffling around on the sofa next to him. "knock yourself out."

With a hum, Shiro unlocked his phone, clicking onto the tumblr app and going straight to his messages. Blue's was sitting at the top of his list, red and bolded in a way that made Shiro grin in excitement. If he was right - and he hoped he was - this was the fic that Blue had been talking about for the past fortnight, that he had talked so vividly and excitedly about that Shiro was half surprised that it wasn't an actual book. He had also been incredibly avoidant on discussing the actual plot, only mentioning the most basic details; it was Svensamu, a modern setting, and apparently was 'a familiar scenario, but with a twist.'

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

 **[LionChampion]** _give me a minute to read, and I'll get back to you_

 **[BlueShooter]** _I'll be waiting ;)_

A quick hyperlink took him to the story, and he instantly saw what Blue meant by a 'twist'; it was an Arusian-Drule Alternative universe, which admittedly, was familiar. Putting the Golion pilots into the two main alien races was a pretty common plot, but Blue had decided to turn the usual roles on its head; Drule Isamu was rare, as was Arusian Sven.

Shiro was gonna' enjoy reading this.

"Is it good?" He heard Keith ask, and he nodded slowly, beginning to scroll through the story - it wasn't too long, and would probably only take him a couple of minutes to read.

"Give me a minute, I've just started," he replied with a gentle laugh, "it's started well though."

It continued well.

Blue was masterful with words, semantic fields and beautiful metaphors extended throughout. He was known for his descriptive language, imagery so vivid that Shiro could get lost in it if he wasn't paying enough attention. It was easy to imagine Isamu's Drule markings, or the alien flowers that Sven loved in bouquets.

Sure, his action scenes were choppy and his dialogue was a bit odd sometimes, but Shiro loved it all the same.

He left a kudos, quickly typing out a comment before sliding back to his messages.

 **[LionChampion]** _Blue this was incredible!_

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _You flatterer ;) what can I say, I'm just that good_

 **[LionChampion]** _I can hear your ego growing from here_

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _rude :(_

His sketch from before the game suddenly flashed into his mind; if he changed the background a bit from Keith's sofa to the juniberry field, it scarily resembled a scene from Blue's story. It wouldn't take that much editing to change Keith into an Arusian Sven, relaxing in a juniberry field, seeing as he hadn't actually drawn any details on the figure yet, and if he tried hard enough he might have it done by tomorrow.

 **[LionChampion]** _can I make it up to you?_

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _I've watched enough hentai to know where this is going ;3c_

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _jk jk what did you have in mind?_

 **[LionChampion]** _you're on thin fucking ice_

 **[LionChampion]** _because of that, it's going to be a surprise_

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _CHAMP NO_

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _I have to go back to work now but just know that I hate you_

With a small laugh, Shiro slipped his phone back in his pocket, pushing against Keith's legs to stand. "Fancy moving?"

"Nope," Keith replied immediately, but his legs swung forwards to let Shiro up, "where are you goin'?"

Shiro shrugged, stretching as he walked over to the discarded sketch on the breakfast bar. "Crydor Creamery," he said with a hum, considering the basic outline before locking the tablet with a click, "wanna' come? I'll buy you a milkshake."

Keith shook his head once, grunting quietly as his character took a hit in the game. "Sorry Shiro," he said quickly, "maybe another day? I think Matt's free though."

"I'll give him a call," Shiro replied with a smile, unhooking his messenger bag from the coat stand and stuffing his tablet inside, "I'll see you later then?"

"Bye nerd," came the snapped reply, and Shiro left the small apartment with a head full of ideas.

* * *

"What do you mean you're busy?"

 _"I mean I'm busy, dude,"_ Matt snapped down the phone with a huff, and Shiro frowned down at the pavement, _"but I'll be done soon - give me half an hour? I just gotta' finish up this test with Dad, I'll join you once I'm done.”_

Shiro grinned, a heavy sigh of relief as the familiar pastel banner of the Crydor Creamery appeared. It was slightly annoying that Matt was busy, but he couldn't really complain; he was lucky that his friend was willing to meet him at all on such short notice.

Sure, he could definitely draw without him - it would just be slow working until Matt arrived. He remembered Sam saying something about how much he needed his 'rubber duck', someone to sit there and bounce ideas off until the artistic hit came to him. Matt, admittedly, didn't know what he was going on about half the time - he swore over and over again that 'anime wasn't his thing' despite being addicted to Sword Art Online - but he was happy to help with colour palettes and anatomy.

The glass door swung open with a familiar ding as Shiro pushed it open gently, and the sweet smell of ice cream and chocolate hit him instantly. It was warm, but not too warm - just comfortable enough to enjoy a cold milkshake without it melting or feeling too cold.

It was also much brighter than his and Keith's flat - they were too weary of the electricity bill to turn the lights on until it got truly dark, and the small window didn't let in enough light to count - something that he sorely needed unless he wanted worse eyes than he already had.

Thankfully, his familiar table in the corner was empty - a finished sundae glass was left, but he could just move it, it wasn't that big of a deal.

He quietly joined the end of the small queue that was trailing up to the counter; there wasn't usually this much of a holdup, and he had to check his phone anyway, flicking it out of his pocket. There wasn't much, a game notification and a missed message from Blue saying he needed to go because he was coming off his break.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" A voice called from somewhere in front of him, and Shiro's head snapped up to see the friendly face of an unfamiliar barista and a distinct lack of a queue both in front and behind him.

He must have been new, since Shiro was fairly sure he would've remembered him - warm skin and even warmer eyes, laid back smile plastered on his face as he quickly moved soft looking hair out of his eyes.

Gosh, he was beautiful.

"Sorry," Shiro quickly apologised, slipping his phone back in his pocket and making his way up to the counter, "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

The barista shook his head, grinning widely to reveal a brilliant smile that reached all the way to bright eyes. "You didn't at all," he replied, propping his head on his hand, "I appreciated the breather, to be honest - lunch rushes, y'know?"  
He laughed gently at himself, before turning back to the cashier. "Have an idea of what you want to order?"

Shiro forced out a nod, jostling his bag back onto his shoulder. "A regular oreo and diem please, no whipped cream, and I'll eat in."

"Aw, no whip?" The barista cooed, before happily popping the order into the cashier, "that'll be four-forty-five please!"

"It's too messy," Shiro explained, suddenly aware of how dry his mouth was, and earning a grateful smile from the Barista as he pulled a bill from his wallet, "gets everywhere, and I need space."

The barista chuckled at that, setting the bill inside the cashier before counting out his change. "Understandable," he agreed, motioning to the satchel slung around Shiro's shoulder, "I'm addicted to cappuccinos, but the froth used to get all over my papers - my professors probably thought I was a proper caffeine addict!"

He handed the change into Shiro's open hand, letting soft fingertips brush across Shiro's skin. "If you wanna' sit down, I'll bring it over to you, spaceman."

With that, he winked, and Shiro felt his legs promptly turn to jelly.

"I, um, thanks," Shiro replied, nodding once before turning harshly on his foot and practically marching over to his usual corner seat.

Fantastic, Takashi, absolutely fucking superb.

To be fair, it wasn't his fault the new barista was obnoxiously attractive and seemed to know that fact. It wasn't his fault the other man chose to send him a flirty wink and call him a cute nickname. It wasn't his fault that he's absolutely terrible at talking to people he finds interesting.

Okay, maybe that last one was his fault, but god knows he wasn't going to accept it.

With a quiet sigh, Shiro dumped his bag on the bench next to him, digging through it for his tablet and stylus before sitting down himself and flicking a thin pair of glasses on; admittedly, knowing there was an extremely cute barista barely ten feet away wasn't what he'd call optimal focused conditions, but he'd make do.

One click and the tablet flashed into life, revealing the sketch he was halfway through when he left his apartment; thankfully, there was enough to go off, so even if he couldn't remember the exact quote from Blue's fic, he had something to work off.

He had just started sketching the background when a gentle cough came from beside him, and his head snapped up to see the Barista from before, chocolate milkshake in hand.

"One Diem and Oreo for a spaceman?" He asked with a sheepish smile, and Shiro nodded happily, shifting his arms slightly to let the Barista place it before him, "good luck with your work, it looks - creative?"

"Just a sketch," Shiro replied quickly, placing the stylus down to take a sip of his drink, "this is really good."

The Barista instantly perked up, grinning before scratching his head awkwardly.  
"Thanks," he said with a chuckle, brushing some stray hair out of his face again, "It's an unusual combination but I imagine it's good? I mean, you can't really go wrong with two classics, and it's all chocolate in the end, right? Oh crow, I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

Shiro shook his head, picking up his stylus again and quickly adding to the background layer. "It's definitely a good combination," he agreed, "and you're not disturbing me - if it helps I usually work faster when I have someone to talk to."

"Oh, like a rubber duck?" The Barista asked, before slipping into the seat opposite Shiro, "sorry, my best friend is an engineer, and his best friend is a hacker-slash-coder-slash-whatever she's calling it now, I guess their lingo rubs off on me."

He laughed awkwardly, and that was when Shiro realised that not only did this man laugh a lot, but also his laugh was highly infectious.

"I know what you mean, Matt's a bio-engineer," Shiro replied with an understanding nod, much to the Barista's obvious relief, "he's usually my rubber duck, but he's busy at the moment-"

"I can stand in!" The Barista replied, a hint of excitement to his voice as he quickly checked the queue was gloriously empty, "no one's waiting, and Romelle isn't here to get pissed at me for shirking my job again, so talk away!"

Shiro raised an eyebrow, aware of the smile - and the blush - that was growing across his face. "Sure?"

"I rubber duck for Hunk all the time, since he keeps forgetting his actual duck," the Barista assured with a determined nod, "so I'm very good at humming in all the right places."

* * *

Admittedly, Matt was a little more than half an hour late.

An hour later, Shiro looked up to see his familiar mess of hair creep through the doors of the parlour; at this point, Shiro had already finished the background layer and was onto sketching out the figures in the foreground. The Barista had stayed with him this entire time, only jumping up once or twice to fix orders for the few customers that wandered in.

He had yet to explain that his sketch was fanart, but seeing as the Barista had already called him a 'cool fantasy artist' several times, he figured there wasn't much point.

"I think you need your watch checked," Shiro called with a laugh as Matt waited by the counter, the Barista jumping up from his chair like a shot to go and serve him, "your idea of 'half an hour' is a lot longer than my idea of half an hour."

"Well I'm sorry," Matt replied with an obvious roll of his eyes, "you try rushing Dad through a chemical composition test, it's like being forced to watch paint dry sometimes - a Hershey cookies and cream milkshake please, and I'll eat in."

"Alright, I'll let you off," Shiro joked, taking a final sip of his own milkshake, "if only because I found a decent replacement."

It was hard to tell from behind the machinery on the counter, but he was fairly sure the Barista blushed. Hard.

Matt huffed, turning back to the counter as the Barista mixed his drink, and Shiro turned back to his drawing, only once again looking up once he heard Matt's chair scraping on the linoleum floor.

"Oh, and your barista boy?" Matt quickly said, whipping his receipt off the table with a flourish, "he said he's gotta' end his shift soon, but he asked me to give you this."

Shiro accepted the receipt with a frown, before glancing down at the pen handwriting on the back.

 _Call me!_  
_\- Lance_  
_xxxxx-xxx-xxx_

* * *

"You look happy," Keith remarked as Shiro slipped back into the apartment an hour later, "I'm gonna' assume something happened? There's no way seeing Matt can be that interesting."

"Nice to see you too," Shiro replied with an amused huff, glancing over at where Keith was now arranging his physics textbooks on the breakfast bar, "nice to see you being productive for once."

He heard a huff from Keith as he chuckled and dumped his satchel on the clothes hooks by the door. "You didn't answer my question - what happened?"

"Nothing much," Shiro said absentmindedly, retrieving his tablet and stylus and making his way over to the couch, "there was a new barista."

There was a brief period of silence, punctuated by a grunt from Keith as the scratches of his pen against his notebook, before-

"So, you got a crush yet?"

"Keith!" Shiro complained, dumping his tablet beside him and turning with a toss of his prosthetic over the back of a couch, "I hardly even spoke to him, let alone know anything about him-"

"Yep, that's a crush."

Shiro just frowned as Keith looked up to toss him a knowing grin. "Did you at least get his name?"

"And his number," Shiro added, and if anything, Keith's eyebrow raised further.

"What are you waiting for?" Keith asked, putting his pen down to glare at Shiro over the bar, "you should text him - who knows, it might even help you get over this Blue person."

He knew Keith had a point there - meeting Blue, and forming a proper relationship with him, was probably way out of the question. This Lance bloke seemed kind, funny without being obnoxious or annoying, a gentle presence that somehow made Shiro feel welcome and comfortable without it ever being overpowering.

His nice face helped too, but Shiro tried not to focus on that too much.

He frowned down at his phone, selecting his contacts and whipping the receipt out of his jeans pocket. "What do I say?"

Behind him, Keith groaned, and he heard shuffling before Keith sat next to him on the couch heavily.

"Say who you are, first of all," Keith suggested with a hint of impatience as Shiro quickly typed the number into the new contact, "or he'll think you're a stalker or something - why do you need me to tell you this?"

"Because you're helpful," Shiro replied, surprised by how calm his own voice was - this seemed satisfactory to Keith, who huffed quietly and leaned back into the cushions, "I'll wait for him to reply before sending anymore."

 **[15:45] Shiro:**  
_Hi, it's Shiro - the Daim and Oreo milkshake guy from the Crydor Creamery today? Matt gave me your number, I hope you don't mind_.

"Sent it yet?"

Shiro nodded, setting the message send before locking his phone and letting it fall against his legs. "Yeah, don't worry," he replied, slipping his phone back into his pocket and folding the receipt carefully, "hopefully he might reply today - he seemed like a pretty busy guy though."

"Well, when you meet him again," Keith mused, standing and moving back to his mountain of textbooks on the bar, "bring me."

"Why?"

"You're like my brother, dude," Keith replied simply, shrugging before picking up his pen again, "I've gotta' threaten him with bodily harm if he hurts you."

Shiro laughed, turning back away from Keith. "Of course you do, I'm so sorry I forgot."

There was a grunt behind him as Keith returned to his work, leaving Shiro to turn back to his phone.

 **[15:47] Lance:**  
_Woah hi there!!!!!! It’s no problem at all, I wanted you to text me ;)_

It was hard to read the text without the recent voice rushing in his ears, bringing a gentle heat to his cheeks. He unlocked his phone again, selecting the messages app almost immediately.

 **[15:48] Shiro:**  
_Well, here I am_

 **[15:48] Lance:**  
_What can I say, you have a magnetic personality :P_

 **[14:59] Lance:**  
_Get any further on your art?_

 **[14:59] Shiro:**  
_Nearly finished, actually, your help was much appreciated_

 **[14:49] Lance:**  
_U HAVE to show me it when you’re finished :D since I deserve partial credit and all_

 **[14:50] Shiro:**  
_Only 12%, at most_

 **[14:50] Lance:**  
_I see you too, are a man of cinematic taste_

A sudden cough echoed from behind him. “I can hear you texting from here.”

“Sorry,” Shiro quickly apologised, “Lance replied.”

“It’s fine,” Keith replied, humming gently in amusement, “I’m glad he replied and didn’t leave you hanging like a dick.”

Shiro laughed quietly as his phone buzzed again in his hands. “I thought I’d be waiting a lot longer than I was, to be honest-“

“And if it helps you get over your tumblr stranger, he’s gotta’ be good.”

A sudden shot of ice lanced through his veins; he had completely forgotten about Blue.

Hopefully Blue wouldn’t hate him for maybe finding someone else; judging by the large amount flirting in their conversations, Blue seemed to really like him. He didn’t really want to lose the other, but if Blue got jealous over a possible boyfriend, that practically spelt the end.

“It’ll be fine,” Shiro replied, aware of his ambiguity as the phone buzzed in his hand again, “and I keep telling you, Blue is nice.”

Keith huffed behind him. “If you say so.”

With a roll of his eyes, Shiro glanced back down at his phone, unlocking it again with a hum.

 **[14:51] Lance:**  
_Also, are u free tomorrow? We could meet for a milkshake once my shift ends at 3 :D_

 **[14:55] Shiro:**  
_Sounds great, I’ll be there_

 **[14:55] Lance:**  
_It’s a date!_

* * *

It was late at night when Shiro's phone next went off.

Lance had already bid him goodnight - apparently he had an early morning lecture he didn't want to miss again - so he was confused as to who would bother to text him. Part of him almost couldn't be bothered to reply, wait until morning and pray that whoever wanted him didn't want a reply urgently, but a louder, more anxious part told him it would be best to answer it now.

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _OKAY SO I TOLD MYSELF I WASNT GONNA SCREAM ABOUT THIS BUT I CANT SLEEP SO EH_

 **[BlackChampion]** _What's up?_

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _Guess which local loser scored a date with sex personified??????_

So Blue had found a partner too?

Shiro took a breath, deep and relieved like a weight had just been released from his chest. If Blue had found a partner too, he didn't need to feel nearly as guilty as he did; part of him felt horrible for leaving him, but if Blue had found someone else, he wouldn't be missed nearly as much.

 **[BlackChampion]** _That's awesome!!!!!! I'm happy for u_

 **[BlackChampion]** _Are they nice?_

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _HELL YEAH_

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _Id show you a pic but I think they'd think im a creep or smth, so take my word for it :D_

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _wait isnt it like super late for u IT IS GN_

The green icon beside Blue's icon flicked away, leaving Shiro with the bright screen against his tired eyes; he clicked it off slowly, shapes dazzling his vision as he was plunged into darkness once again.

Maybe once him and Lance were closer, he could introduce Lance to Blue and pray he didn't get weirded out by the whole fandom shit. Maybe he could draw him as a GoLion pilot, get him to watch the show and see if he liked it. Sure, it wouldn't be a deal breaker if he didn't, but it would probably help a little bit in the future.

Shiro fell asleep that night to the faint image of Lance in Isamu's jacket, blazing sword in hand.

* * *

By the time half past two came the next day, Shiro was a pile of nervous energy.

Keith had already told him off once for bouncing his leg constantly on the sofa, and once again for tapping his pencil on the coffee table, so Shiro had resorted to solitaire, and hoping Keith didn't actually ask him to do anything.

"So, what's this guy actually like?"

Damn it.

"Funny," Shiro replied simply, coughing gently into his hand when his words didn't come out the first time, "he was funny, and seemed to understand the concept of a rubber duck."

Keith arched an eyebrow, leaning back against the sofa and folding his arms. "So you're going on a date with a nerd?"

With a gentle laugh, Shiro reached up to run a hand through his hair, checking the time on his phone before letting it drop into his lap. "Probably," he joked, "I forgot to ask what he does with his life - I'll find out today and report back to you."

"If he isn't, I'll be surprised," Keith shot back, tone deadpan despite the gentle smile growing on his face, "who knows, he might like your nerd shows and frame your fanart from the walls - what would you do if he found your-?"

"Keith, c'mon," Shiro interrupted, checking his phone one final time and pushing himself to his feet, "I'd rather not enter this date any more paranoid than I am already."

Rolling his eyes, Keith stood too, moving over to pull Shiro into a tight hug. "You'll be fine," he assured quickly as Shiro gave him a tight squeeze, "he liked you for a reason, it'll go okay - if it goes tits up you can use me as an excuse, you know the drill."

"I'm grateful," Shiro replied as he pulled away, letting his arms drop to his sides, "what will happen this time? A dead cat or a broken ankle-?"

"Shiro!" A fist connected with his shoulder, and he looked to see Keith scowling at him angrily. "For fuck's sake, have some faith in yourself - go, be great or whatever."

With that, he forcibly turned Shiro towards the doorway, before pushing him out the entrance.

"Now go," he practically ordered, Shiro stifling a laugh at his tone, "or he'll think you've ditched him."

"Fine, fine, I'm going," Shiro replied with a chuckle, securing his satchel over his shoulder, "I'll see you later."

He let the apartment door slam shut behind him, and left with a gentle smile on his face.

* * *

By the time he reached the creamery, it was practically three o'clock, and Shiro was hoping he wasn't late.

With a huff, he pushed open the heavy glass doors, wincing as the prosthetic bit into his arm in the process. Hopefully, Lance wasn’t watching and waiting to see him struggle with a door.

A quick scan of the room suggested that Lance actually wasn’t there yet, and Shiro felt himself give a small sigh of relief. He couldn’t see the mop of brown hair anywhere in the small cafe, nor hear the familiar voice - a small blessing he was thankful for.

Shutting the door behind him, he quietly moved into the queue, slotting in behind a bunch of teenagers and hoping Lance would get there soon.

By the time he got to the front of the queue, Lance was still nowhere to be seen.

“Excuse me, Shiro, right?” A voice suddenly asked, and Shiro focused to see another unfamiliar barista - Sven must have been hiring recently - behind the counter, smile warm and friendly, “you’re here for Lance?”

“Uh, yeah,” Shiro stuttered in reply, face flushing gently, “that’s me.”

The barista grinned, in what Shiro assumed was relief, and ran his hands down his uniform apron. “Yeah, so apparently I’m on orders to tell you he’s gonna’ be a little bit late,” he explained, a hint of exasperation in his voice, “do you want to order whilst you wait? I’m Hunk, by the way.”

Shiro smiled awkwardly in reply, suddenly aware of how sweaty his left hand was. “Sure,” he said with a nod, a surge of gratefulness shooting through his veins, “a diam and Oreo please, thank you.”

Hunk shot him a grin, immediately setting to work as Shiro moved over to the next counter. He was aware of metal fingertips drumming on the countertop, but if he stopped he knew his leg would start bouncing.

He wasn’t sure what was worse.

“Hey, calm down,” Hunk suddenly said from behind the counter, and Shiro looked up to see him stepping away from a whirring blender, “he'll be here soon, don't worry."

Shiro nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath and drop his hands from the counter. "Thanks, sorry," he quickly apologised, looking up to catch Hunk's supportive smile as he turned back to the blender, "I'll be fine."

"Damn right you will," Hunk replied with a grin as he turned around to pass Shiro his milkshake, but quickly shook his hand as Shiro attempted to pull a bill out of his wallet.

"Lance can pay," he explained, nodding as Shiro slowly put the bill away, "he's late, he can make it up to you - now sit down!"

A wave of gratitude soared over Shiro - Hunk must've somehow known that money was tight that month - and he grabbed the cup. Thankfully the table in the corner was empty, clear for once of paper cups and drops of missed milkshake.

It wasn't soon after that he heard the familiar tinkle of the doorbell, head snapping up to see the closest thing to a human hurricane he'd ever seen in his life.

Lance staggered in, face a picture of exhaustion and rush as the bag over his shoulder seemed to drag him down on one side; it was kind of funny to watch, and Shiro couldn't help but grin as Lance practically wobbled to the counter. He didn't seem to notice, and Shiro felt a gentle heat settle over his cheeks.

"Hunkules, the god of culinary expertise and the workshop, saviour of my life," he groaned, practically collapsing onto the front counter, "please say I'm the first here."

He heard Hunk stifle a laugh, and suddenly Lance glanced over to look at Shiro in the corner, eyes wide as Shiro could do little but wave lamely. "Sorry dude," Shiro heard him say unsympathetically, "he beat you here, better luck next time."

Lance seemed to visibly deflate, tossing him a tired smile before turning back to Hunk. "Best not keep him waiting any longer," he said with a sigh, "my usual?"

Hunk must've nodded, since a moment later, Lance was making his way to Shiro's table. An apologetic grin washed over his face, and Shiro felt a surge of sympathy in his chest.  
"I'm so sorry," Lance repeated once he got to the table, dumping his bag by the table leg and practically collapsing into his seat, "I got caught up in the library, essays are a bitch like that, y'know?"

Shiro laughed gently, leaning back in his seat. "It's fine, don't worry," he assured as Lance breathed a sigh of relief, "and I know your pain, don't worry."

"college?" Lance asked.

Shiro nodded. "college."

Lance opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get a word in Hunk appeared around the corner of the workstation, milkshake in hand.  
"Sorry to interrupt," he said with a grin, Lance looking over to share a slightly embarrassed look with Shiro as the cup was placed next to Shiro's on the table, "I'll leave you two to it."

With that, he bustled off again, leaving Shiro looking into the space where Hunk was in a daze.

"Sorry," Lance repeated, looking rather sheepish as Shiro turned back to him, "Hunk's my best friend, he's been teasing me about this for hours."

"You don't have to apologise, I-" he paused, thinking back to exactly how much Keith had been teasing him about the date- "I expected nothing less."

With a shrug, Lance leaned in, taking a slurp of his drink before relaxing into his chair slightly. "Anyway, you said college?"

"college," Shiro parroted, nodding slowly whilst Lance stopped to laugh across the table, "final year of art and design, joy of joys - do you go to Altea?"

"Nah," Lance replied, face twisting in thought, "you know the Garrison, right?"

So Lance went to the Garrison?

"It's only the biggest STEM-focused college in the state, no big deal," Shiro joked, taking a sip of his own milkshake as Lance rolled his eyes, "yeah, I've heard of it - both the college and it's draconian education system-"

"It's not that bad!" Lance interrupted, playful - beautiful - smile playing on his face, "both me and Hunk go there, I'm doing marine biology and he's doing mechanical engineering - and sure, Professor Iverson can be a little harsh sometimes but he's a good teacher!"

If this Iverson was the same one Matt complained about nearly every day, he had his doubts about the 'good teacher' part.

"And besides," Lance continued, gesturing with his drink precariously, "I mostly have professor Holt anyway, and he's great - I mean, you probably don't know him-"

"He's my friend's Dad," Shiro offered, Lance beaming at him once again, "so yeah, I know him."

Lance leaned in excitedly, missing Shiro's drink by a hair. "Then you know he's great! Aw man, I wouldn't have got through second year without him."  
With that, he leaned back in his chair again, taking a happy sigh and another loud slurp of his drink. "What about you, Da Vinci? Is Altea just the four year long party that Rachael says it is?"

"Da Vinci?" Shiro questioned, smile playing on his face as Lance simply raised an eyebrow, "and no, at least it wasn't for me. I know people who are drunk ninety percent of the time, but the majority of us are normal, I swear."

Lance laughed at that, bright and happy, and something warm shot through Shiro's veins.

"I want to know your definition of normal is," he replied with a grin, and Shiro felt a definite heat coming to his face, "even over at the Garrison we can still afford to get wasted."

"Unfortunately, finals are nearly here," Shiro explained, watching as Lance cringed at the idea, "the portfolio beckons more than the tequila."

Lance sighed heavily, taking a deep sip of his milkshake. “I know your pain,” he replied, voice taking on a hint of some fake pain, “I have exams in a few weeks, and I already want to like, actually die.”

“I’ll write you a nice eulogy,” Shiro joked, earning an eye roll from Lance.

“You better, or you’re not invited to the funeral!”

With that, Lance crashed backwards into his seat with a playful huff, Shiro finally letting a laugh rumble out. It seemed that Lance had finally - finally - relaxed from his stressful start, enough for his face to melt into the familiar easy grin that Shiro loved the first time he was here.

“So, besides the parties, and death-inducing finals,” Shiro started, Lance leaning into the table across from him, “what do you with your life?”

It was then that Shiro learned Lance had a part time job at the local aquarium, FaceTimed his mother in Cuba once a week, and fed several stray cats that appeared outside his apartment every day. He was a year off completing a degree in marine biology, and apparently had a small addiction to a coffee shop just around the corner from his flat.  
Shiro also noticed that he poked his tongue out when he laughed, liked to run his hands through his soft-looking hair, and always was fiddling with something or tossing something between his fingers.

The more Lance talked, the deeper Shiro fell in love.

“So, what about you?” Lance suddenly asked, Shiro forcibly snapping back to reality, “you seem like the cool and mysterious type, what do you do with your life outside of drawing in darkened cafe corners?”

Shiro cringed at the thought, suddenly realising how little of a life he had outside of education and his online presence. Admittedly that wasn’t something he was about to tell Lance - he’d gained mixed reaction to telling his friends he made art for what was essentially a kids cartoon, and he didn’t really want to scare Lance off that quickly - but he didn’t know what else to say otherwise.

“I’m just a student,” he started, laughing at Lance’s immediate disbelieving huff, “no, seriously, I don’t have a life at the moment outside of finals - the only socialisation I’m getting at the moment is my flatmate and my friends that I see once a month for a movie night.”

God, when he put it like that, he did sound sad.

He felt a slightly embarrassed flush rise to his face, but it was gone in an instant the moment he heard Lance’s tinkling laugh once again, gentle and understanding, and he felt the prosthetic at his side loosen before he even realised it was tight.

Man, he hoped Lance didn’t comment.

“You’re cute, y’know,” Lance replied with a grin, and Shiro felt a blush on his face for an entirely different reason, “it’s okay, seriously.”

Shiro’s entire body relaxed, and he gently moved one of his hands over Lance’s on the table.

Maybe this would be okay.

* * *

“So, was he nice?”

Lance nodded vigorously, frowning in concentration as Pidge’s character darted across the screen.  
“He’s fantastic,” he replied once the battle was over, leaning back on the slightly stained beanbag, “like, some kind of Greek god made human again.”

Next to him, Hunk hummed in agreement, reached across Pidge to take one of the small cannolis off the plate. “I second that,” he deadpanned, “if I weren’t taken I’d- I don’t know, I’d be jealous I guess? I mean he’s not my type but he was very conventionally attractive, if you-“

“I get it, chill,” Pidge interrupted, eating a cannoli quickly before turning back to the game, “so he’s hot, great, anything else? Like, y’know, actual personality?”

Lance rolled his eyes, sighing before he leaned sideways onto Hunk. “He’s like, the nicest guy I’ve ever met,” he started, aware his voice was suddenly quiet compared to the drone of the video game, “ridiculously humble, the most gentle giant you could ever meet - after you Hunk, obviously - and has the same sense of humour as an actual dad-“

“D’ya think he has a dark, hidden secret?” Hunk said suddenly, “like, he seemed too perfect.”

“I mean, probably - dude’s entire right arm was prosthetic, but I didn’t want to ask.”

“Sounds like a fanfic plot,” Pidge mused, not taking her eyes off the screen, “you should write that, your readers would love it.”

Lance frowned suddenly, face twisting in thought. Admittedly, he could easily turn his date into some svensamu fanfic, could probably write it all tonight if he really focused; his friends would like it, Champ would love it, and the internet seemed to devour dumb things like first dates like chocolate.

“Wouldn’t he find it a bit creepy?” Lance countered, “like what if he were to find it? Most people aren’t great with the whole ‘fanfiction’ thing.”

With a shrug, Pidge turned to raise an eyebrow at Lance. “You say it yourself, that tiny little group you’re in hardly constitutes a fandom, I highly doubt he’s gonna’ be in it as well.”

“Just write the fic,” Hunk added, grinning gently at Lance, “like, what’s the worst that can happen?”

* * *

"So, what was he like?"

Shiro shrugged, feeling a blush settle over his cheeks as Allura headbutted his leg gently.

"C'mon Shiro, tell us!" Matt joined in, Keith snickering behind him as the heat flooded his face, "you can't keep your secret barista a secret forever."  
He paused, Shiro turning to raise an eyebrow sceptically.  
"Either you tell us, or I'll ask Pidge about him-"

Shiro huffed, rolling his eyes in his half-hearted frustration and letting the braid he had been working on fall limply against Allura's back.  
"Fine," he started, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, "he's - god, I don't know - amazing? He's a marine biologist, studies over at the Garrison-"

"Whoa, whoa, the Garrison?" Allura suddenly interrupted, mercifully without any actual venom in her voice, "you traitor-!"

"I didn't know," Shiro replied, returning to the half-finished braid as Allura relaxed on the sofa against his legs, "he's not an arrogant arse, I promise, he's-" he stopped suddenly, frowning as his brain went blank- "unbelievably nice."

"Lance?" Matt asked, huffing a laugh as he took another handful of popcorn, "Pidge says he's an arse, sorry."

"Okay, so he's confident," Shiro corrected, and Keith laughed again as took a swig of his cider can, "but he was great, comfortable to be around, and he didn't ask, y'know?"

The prosthetic felt heavy.

"So he passed the test?" Keith asked gently, nudging his side supportively, "he sounds decent, maybe we could meet him one day?"

Shiro heard Allura gently laugh in front of him, and he didn't need to turn to know Matt had a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

"Maybe," he stuttered, frowning in thought as a strand of Allura's hair slipped through his fingers, "he'd have to be comfortable, lord knows meeting you lot is bound to be an experience."

They lapsed into comfortable silence after that, Matt and Keith getting distracted by whatever Kirk was doing on screen, and Shiro was focusing too much on the braid; he'd had to restart once or twice already that evening, although Allura didn't seem to mind. That was generally what happened with their movie nights; Matt and Keith would argue about whatever nerdy discourse they could relate to that particular movie, and Shiro would braid Allura's hair whilst she prepared her argument that would inevitably shut the both of them up.

Repetitive, true, but always hilarious.

It was kind of hypnotic as well, and Shiro hadn't noticed he'd zoned out until he felt Allura tapping his shin.

"Dude," he heard Keith urge, and Shiro looked up to see him with a familiar phone in his hand, "your text boy wants you."

"Jesus, Shiro," Matt snickered, "when Keith said you were shit at answering your phone, I didn't realise it was this shit."

Shiro rolled his eyes, quickly tying up the braid with the usual pink hairband. "Forgive me for spending time with my friends," he replied dryly, earning a chuckle from Allura, "it probably won't be important - stop looking at me like that!"

Keith shrugged, practically thrusting the phone into Shiro's hands. "Alright, whatever, just answer him, or turn your godamn vibration off."

With a wry laugh, Shiro flipped the cover of the case, looking down at the few notifications. In some tired way, he was thankful that they were all from one app, sohe didn't have to juggle several conversations at once. Even better, it was Blue, who he could have an easy talk with.

"Blue?"

Shiro nodded, earning a gentle hum from Allura. "Sorry about this."

He unlocked the phone, heading straight to Tumblr as the red notifications blared against his background.

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _hey, hey champ, hey champ hey, guess what_

**[BlueSharpshooter sent a post]**

**[BlueSharpshooter]** _I wrote a thing :3_

The post appeared to be a link, a short story that Blue had apparently written quickly, at least according to the authors notes. It seemed sweet, a modern au with a dating aspect, and wasn't too long.

 **[BlackLionChampion]** _It sounds awesome :D give me a second_

Hopefully the others wouldn't mind him ducking out for a little bit.

As in typical Blue fashion, it started well. The plot was a short drabble, a variation upon a coffee shop AU, he noticed. It didn't seem to big, mostly consisting of Sven heading to a milkshake shop to meet his Barista-boyfriend Isamu-

This all sounded rather familiar.

Shiro frowned, holding the phone a little closer to his face. Some of the details- they seemed too relevant, too specific. Sven ordered a Diem and Oreo milkshake, sitting in a table in the corner to wait for him. Sven was an artist major, unusual in the GoLion fandom, Isamu was a biologist.

The phone echoed against the wood floor with a clatter.

A flash of white hair zipped before his eyes. “Shiro, are you okay?”

“Shiro?” Keith asked, voice slightly muffled in Shiro’s ear as a gentle hand appeared on his bicep, “Shiro, what’s up?”

It was too real, too close.

Had someone followed him? Watched him? Sat near him in the café and noted his conversations, line for line, detail for detail?

Matt had appeared at his feet now, one hand supportively on his knee. “Shiro, buddy, breathe.”

It hurt to breathe, hurt to move, but he wasn’t dying. He wasn’t in the car, wasn’t totalled, he was safe in Allura’s cosy living room with his friends around him and the Lego Batman film blaring on the flatscreen TV.

Breath entered his lungs like fire, a blazing inferno in his throat. All he could feel was the burning ice in his veins, the tightness of his chest, hands on his arms, his legs, his shoulders. He shouldn’t have reacted so badly - why had he reacted so badly? It could’ve been a coincidence, a joke, one of his friends playing a trick on him.

Too close.

“Shiro,” Allura said gently, voice cutting through the white noise, movie muting somewhere in the distance, “talk to us, what has happened?”

He swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly sandpaper dry. “I don’t think I’m safe.”

* * *

It wasn't until a week or so later that Shiro realised that he never actually replied to Blue's message.

It was a slow Sunday, and Shiro had spent most of the day working on his small backlog of commissions; admittedly he had mostly been working on icons, which didn't take long. Lance had also been talking to him for most of the day; he had a Sunday elective class in coastal geography, and was apparently bored out of his mind. He started telling water puns at about two, which Shiro were never going to admit were funny, but it was a clear sign he was bored. It turned out Lance had a fairly short attention span for anything he found less than interesting, but Shiro really wasn't complaining.

The chat log, however, was sitting ominously in his open Tumblr Page, foreboding and heavy.

He knew he should reply. Even just a short message with an emoji would do, but nothing could excuse the writhing anxiety in his gut; this person he trusted, thought he knew, and yet-

Nothing about that story felt right.

He sighed, setting down his stylus to pick up his phone once again. This drawing - a bust of a fantasy style Akira - was no where near finished, but his eyes hurt and he was in desperate need of a drink.

 **[15:25] Lance:**  
_Also, u doing anything tonight? My classes finish at like, 5, so do u want to grab some dinner?_

Well, he certainly could. Keith was out tonight with his D&D society, so he wouldn't exactly miss him, and he'd take a meal with Lance over a dinner of what would inevitably be instant ramen.  
Come to think of it, he'd take a meal with Lance over anything.

 **[15:26] Shiro:**  
_Sounds good! Have an idea of a place?_

 **[15:27] Lance:**  
_Maybe Crydor again?_

Shiro's stomach dropped. What if his stalker was still there? Or worked there? That nice barista didn't seem sketchy, but who else would know his exact milkshake order?

 **[15:27] Lance:**  
_Wait no they don't do evening meals ignore me_

A wave of relief washed over him at that. He wouldn't have to face the possibility of an anxiety-ridden dinner - or, at least, he'd be anxious over impressing Lance rather than someone watching him.

 **[15:28] Lance:**  
_How about that garden place over by the mall, Ive always wanted to go there :DDD_

Lance must've been referring to a new restaurant that had popped up in one of the new mall openings a few months ago. It was nice - he'd been with Allura soon after the opening, apparently it was run by some family friends of hers - but he remembered it being a little pricey.  
But judging by Lance's excitement, loud and refreshing, over his text?

Looks like he really would be on instant ramen for the next few days.

 **[15:28] Shiro:**  
_Sounds good!_

 **[15:28] Shiro:**  
_What time did you have in mind?_

 **[15:29] Lance:**  
_AKDHKAJSJD AWESOME_

 **[15:29] Lance:**  
_Maybe about 7:30??? I'll make a reservation :D_

 **[15:30] Shiro:**  
_I'll be there, no doubt :)_

With that, he dropped the phone on the desk, falling backwards into the chair with a sigh. This was nearly exhausting, but Lance's enthusiasm was pleasant, a constant on the other side of his phone, keeping him quietly sane. Honestly, he didn't know how he lived before Lance, with his gentle reminders and energy.

Now he just had to find something to wear.

It hit seven-twenty-seven, and Shiro was cold.

  
He had arrived slightly early, more out of fear of being late than anything else, but it didn't seem to have paid off this time, since he didn't know Lance's last name to get to the reservation early, and the shirt that Matt, Keith and Allura had picked out for him wasn't exactly warming.  
It was October, he remembered, nervously rubbing the purple material between metal fingertips. Hopefully Lance wouldn't mind him shivering all evening, since he probably would be unless it was warmer in the damn restaurant.

  
"Hey, Shiro!"

  
As if on cue, the sound of quick footsteps echoed down the street beside him, and Shiro turned to quickly see a flash of blue and olive barrel towards him.  
"Lance," he breathed, turning fully onto his foot as Lance practically skidded into his arms, two long arms wrapping around his middle, "that was quite an entrance."

  
"What can I say?" Lance replied with a grin, looking up from his snug position in Shiro's chest, "I love the attention, but who can blame me?"

  
He gave a last grin, looking back down to squeeze Shiro tightly around the shoulders, before pulling away. If Shiro squinted a little bit, he could see a gentle blush dusting Lance's face like powder.

  
Adorable, really.

  
Before Shiro had chance to think, a smooth hand slipped into his, dragging him towards the entrance of the restaurant. He focused to see Lance, beautiful, smiling Lance, ready to enter with a grin that crinkled his eyes and soft hair that glinted in the lamplight.  
"Hungry?"

  
Shiro nodded, squeezing his hand in reply and falling into step next to Lance. "I've been looking forward to this."

  
The restaurant was warm when they entered, and Shiro was instantly reminded of a rainforest; ivy branches and vines climbed the cream brick walls, and branches hung from the ceiling, twinkling with gentle fairy lights that were twisted around them. It was homely, inviting, almost exotic in a way that almost made Shiro's jaw drop, and, judging by the bemused chuckle that came from Lance, he didn't do much of a job at stopping it.

  
"Pretty," Lance hummed, "think this'll be okay?"

  
Before long, a waiter - Bandor, his name tag said - appeared, clipboard in hand, and Lance quickly rattled off his surname; they were whisked off to a table, and left in a whirl of menus and wine glasses.

  
"Well, if it was one thing I wasn't expecting, it was a freakin' waterfall," Lance mused with a grin, turning his head to glance at the artificial waterfall that was built into the wall next to their table, "this restaurant has everything."

  
"Even good food," Shiro added with a wry smile, "I've been here before, it's all pretty decent."

  
Lance nodded, opening the menu with a flourish. "Is it bad I already know what I want? Hunk got work experience here, he told me what was good." He grinned, tongue poking slightly out of his mouth.

  
"Oh yeah?"

  
"Yep!" He replied cheerfully, "the specially green curry, Hunk attempted to ask for the recipe once and nearly got garrotted by Romelle - ergo, it must be good."

  
"I'll take your word for it," Shiro agreed, scanning over the menu quickly before deciding on some baked pasta that he'd never heard of before but sounded good, "how has your week been?"

  
Lance shrugged, folding the menu in front of him and leaning back into his chair. "Alright, essays galore, the usual," he replied with a grin, "it's been an interesting week, y'know?"

  
Shiro quirked an eyebrow, setting the menu to the side and leaning forward to lean on his elbows. "Really?" He asked, smiling as Lance groaned exaggeratedly, "a penny for your thoughts?"

  
Before he had time to answer, the waiter appeared again, pad in hand, ready for them to rattle of their orders.  
"It's nothing, really," Lance assured once the waiter had gone, reaching over to take Shiro's hand across the table, "just got a friend being a dick, nothing serious - what about you?"

  
Shiro laughed dryly, flushing as Lance gave his hand a squeeze. "Busy," he said with a grin, "it seems I always have a million things to finish, but in a way I wouldn't have it anyway else."

  
"I know what you mean," Lance joked, nodding and looking down to play gently with Shiro's metal fingertips, "god knows what I'll do when I leave education - like I love the freedom, but actually adulting? Ugh."

  
Shiro laughed at that, properly this time, nearly unable to take his eyes away from how Lance's hair seemed to glow in the gentle light, or how his eyes seemed to be the exact colour of the waterfall next to him. "Well, what would you like to do?"

  
Lance frowned in thought, leaning on his free hand. "Like, anything?"

  
"Anything."

  
He hummed again, running a slow hand through his hair. "I've always wanted to write a book - I write anyway, and it always seemed fun-"

  
"You write?" Shiro asked, running a thumb over Lance's knuckles, "what kind of stuff?"

  
If he squinted, a blush had settled on Lance's face, either from embarrassment or attention, he wasn't sure.  
But it certainly was cute.

  
"Just - short stories, it's not good or anything, or important, so, I guess, yeah?" He scratched his neck awkwardly, earning a gentle huff of amusement from Shiro. "I mean - do you ever just draw stuff because you want to?"

  
_More than you could ever imagine._

  
"I know what you mean, don't worry," Shiro assured, watching as Lance relaxed again, "I know I definitely do."

  
Lance shuffled gently, and Shiro felt a foot gently knock against his ankle under the table. "So, what kind of stuff do you draw?"

  
Instantly, Shiro felt exactly like what Lance must've felt like; how exactly was he supposed to tell Lance that he drew fanart for what was essentially a kids cartoon?  
"Fantasy, Sci-Fi, that kind of stuff," he replied instead, giving Lance's hand a gentle squeeze, "I like the profiles, it's fun."

  
Lance grinned at that, an interested light flashing in his eyes. "Do you have a muse?"

  
"Well, I'd love for it to be you," Shiro replied before he could stop himself, and revelling in the bright blush on Lance's face, "but I don't have much practice."

  
With a quiet cough, Lance averted his gaze, covering his mouth with his free hand. "Really - like, seriously? You could draw me?"

  
With a nod, Shiro grinned sheepishly, suddenly aware of how warm it was in the restaurant. "Of course," he said, slowly reclaiming contact with Lance's beautiful blue eyes, "I mean - if you're not busy, we could go back to my flat after we've eaten? My flatmate won't be in, and that's where my tablet is, and-"

  
"Dude, that sounds perfect," Lance interrupted, and Shiro was hit with the horrifying realisation that he was nervous-rambling, "that also solves the immortal question of 'your place or mine'!"

  
He laughed at that, quickly tossing Shiro a wink before cringing at himself and grinning down at the table. "Sorry, I-"

"It's fine," Shiro replied, feeling the flush burst across his face that he previously thought had gone, "I- that's a good point."

Lance squeezed his hand once again, and Shiro was fairly sure he had gone to heaven.

* * *

The dinner went incredibly fast.

Shiro could hardly believe it when Lance ushered him into his car, the taste of ragu sauce still on his lips as the streetlights began to speed past. He also couldn't believe the jitters that coursed through his veins at the mere idea of Lance coming back to his flat. Would it be too dirty, too cluttered? Or would it smell? Lance always smelt like cotton, fresh and clean - what if he turned his nose up at it?

"Earth to Shiro?" He heard Lance say, quiet laugher humming through the rumble of the car, "you okay dude?"

"Fine," he replied immediately, eyes suddenly focusing on the dashboard in front of him as he fixed a quick smile, "sorry, zoned out there a little, I'm fine."

Lance laughed again, bell-like and gentle, and a hand reached across the centre console to link with Shiro's, "if you're sure, big guy," he assured, hand feeling heavy against the back of Shiro's, "driving can have that effect, y'know? God knows the amount of times I used to zone out when I started driving and nearly killed Marco, it's fine!"

"A reassuring memoir," Shiro joke dryly, earning an eye roll from Lance, "and don't worry, I'm just a little-"

"Nervous?"

Shiro turned to look at him, a slight frown forming on his face. "Yeah, I- How did you know?"

With a shrug, Lance squeezed his hand again, fingers sliding out from between Shiro's to drum light rhythms on his knuckles. "Pidge said you might be - she's Matt's sister, she said she knew you and you got really nervous on dates."

"I-" Shiro started, metal fist clenching subconsciously, "sorry."

"Don't apologise!" Lance said quickly, and Shiro looked up to see a hopeful, reassuring smile on the other man's face, "I- I am too, my latest attempts at dating-" he sighed, a sadness dancing across his eyes for a split second- "they haven't been so great."

There was an honesty in his voice that, coupled with the sudden storminess of usually clear eyes, made Shiro almost want to cry for him. He made a mental note of the information, something to come back to and talk about on a nicer, less tense day, when Shiro could truly hold him close and dry his tears when they inevitably cried, kiss the top of his head and cook his favourite dinner that night.

_Woah Takashi, one step at a time._

"Anyway," Lance said quickly, cutting Shiro's thoughts short, "it's this block, right?"

The car had pulled up against the curb, familiar apartment block stretching up into the night above them. Shiro nodded, humming in confirmation, and before he could even look back down, Lance was up and out of the car. He disappeared and reappeared on Shiro's side, opening the car door with an extravagant flourish.

"My lord," he drawled, exaggerated British accent bringing a grin to Shiro's lips, "your palace awaits!"

He held out his arm, ready for Shiro to take it with a dramatic royal air, letting Lance lock the door behind them and lead them into the apartment block. Sure, he tripped up a stairwell in an attempt to walk snootily, and Shiro nearly cried from laughter from there until they reached the familiar front door, but that was neither here nor there.

"Wow, a black door," Lance mused as Shiro fished the keys out of his pocket, "is it bad I was expecting something a little wild?"

"You're not the first person to say that," Shiro replied with an amused laugh, "and, as much as Keith and I would love a rainbow paint-splattered door, our landlord won't let us."

The now familiar grumble of Lance's half-whine hummed around the corridor as Shiro finally heaved the door open with a gentle shove.

"Sticky locks," he explained at Lance's raised eyebrows, "sorry."

Instead Lance just laughed, letting Shiro lead him into the flat by the elbow as the door hit against the wall, and a quick flick of a switch shot light up the central hall.

"C'mon then, Van Gogh," Lance joked, dragging a quietly laughing Shiro into the main lounge, "you have a promise to keep."

Shiro shook his head gently, retrieving his tablet off the counter and glancing over to where Lance was making himself comfortable on the couch. He didn't seem to notice the rips or the coffee stains, or if he did he didn't seem to mind, lifting a small amount of stress off Shiro's shoulders. Instead of turning his nose up at the slightly messy flat like his anxiety told him he would, Lance seemed to be making himself at home, relaxing into the cushions and tossing one leg over the other.

Part of him wanted - yearned - to see this every day, come out of his studio to see Lance just in from work, tired but happy as he collapses onto the couch-

_You've literally been on two dates. Stop it._

"You have a very comfy couch," he confirmed, a dramatic look of bliss smattered across his face, "can I, like, stay here? Forever?"

"I'm not saying no," Shiro replied with an amused hum as he unlocked the tablet, "but I think my flatmate might object."

Lance shrugged nonchalantly, shuffling over to give Shiro space to sit next to him. "He'll have to deal with it, because I'm not moving, not anymore, I'm too comfy."  
He grinned, tipping his head back on the cushion to grin at the ceiling with his hair catching the soft light and neck gracefully exposed, and it was that look that Shiro decided he wanted to capture.

"Stay there for a second," he urged, Lance flicking one eye open curiously, "I want to get that shot, it looks-"

"Hot?" Lance interrupted, cheeky chin meeting Shiro when he looked up.

"That's certainly one word you could use," he replied, rolling his eyes playfully before beginning the sketch. He'd probably only draw the bust, or maybe down to Lance's waist to include his arms that were pillowing the back of his head.

"I thought you artist types hated people asking you to draw them for free," Lance suddenly mused, both eyes now flicking open to stare contemplatively at the ceiling. The blue of his eyes was really obvious here, juxtaposed by his dark skin - maybe Shiro would have to colour this, it wouldn't look right without those details.

"We do," Shiro replied with a chuckle, earning an interested eyebrow raise from Lance, "I'm taking my commission rates out of your bank account as we speak."

Lance clicked his tongue, frowning flatly. "Don't do that babe, I've still got my rent to pay!" He paused, letting a laugh ring between them for the second, and glanced over to Shiro, curious smile back on his face.  
"Seriously though, why me?"

Shiro shrugged, quickly looking up at Lance before turning back to his sketch - he couldn't seem to get the nose exactly right, and it was annoying him.  
"Because it isn't often I get to draw such a fantastic model for free," he said simply, eyes down to ignore the cute blush that he knew was mirrored on Lance's face, "usually they charge you for the privilege of the class."

"And what makes me such a good model?"  
This was suddenly quieter, almost disbelieving, and had the hint of a tremor in his voice, bare against the otherwise silence of the room that made Shiro's chest hurt.

"You have-" Shiro paused, looking up to see a hint of old pain, old scars in blue eyes- "the most wonderful bone structure, and the prettiest eyes I've ever seen."

With that, he ducked back down to sketch, just quick enough to see Lance's sharp intake of breath. He wasn't quite used to this, this game of flirting and teasing that Lance seemed to enjoy, but god was it worth it for that reaction.

"Hey, Shiro?" A tentative voice asked above him, and the couch cushions shifted as Shiro looked up to see Lance turning to face him, "can you like, work from memory?"

"Mostly?" He replied, cocking his head slightly as Lance frowned and looked down, "it won't be exact, like the lighting might be off and I won't get the colours right - is everything okay?"

Lance nodded quickly, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah, it's fine, don't worry-"

"Lance?"

"I just really want to kiss you, okay?"

Well.

That was new.

Unexpected as well.

But wonderful.

Shiro felt himself nod, quickly moving his tablet onto the coffee table with fumbling fingers. Lance's eyes went wide with surprise, then shock, then relief, reaching out to lock his arms around Shiro's neck.

And then his lips were on Shiro's, and that was when everything faded into Lance.

Lance’s lips were soft, pressing, guiding him forwards as Shiro wrapped his arms around the lithe waist in front of him, metal hand splayed on his back as Lance tilted his head slowly. He tasted like the citrusy tang of curry, spicy and sweet and every bit as intoxicating as Shiro thought he would be. Smooth fingertips carded into his hair, each touch a firework against his scalp.

His eyes had fluttered shut a long time ago, but he could still imagine how Lance seemed to glow in the dim light, how delicate his hands were, how the hums and quirks that played against Shiro’s lips were happy and curious as he pushed closer and closer.

He hadn’t been kissed like this since- since, well, Adam-

Lance dragged his teeth across Shiro’s bottom lip, and all thoughts of Adam vanished.

The next thing he was aware of was Lance pressing him backwards onto the sofa, hands slowly sliding over his shoulders and onto his chest as he tightened his grip around Lance.

His head hit the back pillow gradually, and Shiro had never been more in love.

* * *

  
Realisation didn't hit him until the next day, after working on the profile for most of the time after Lance went.

They hadn't finished the night with anything untoward, but they'd pretty heavily made out until Shiro heard the familiar tired clomp of Keith in the apartment hallway; they scurried back to Shiro's bedroom and cuddled for the rest of the night, finally falling asleep curled up in each other when they couldn't evade exhaustion any longer.

When he phrased it like that, it sounded awfully innocent, but everything about it had been perfect.

He had learned Lance slotted against his side like they were made for each other, liked head rubs and slow, patient kisses, and mourned the lack of his daily skin routine that sounded more complicated the more Shiro tried to understand but nodded along to anyway. He liked breakfasts together, hot cups of tea in bed, and didn't seem to mind Shiro's horrific morning breath.

All in all, it was the perfect morning.

"Lance didn't hang about then," he heard Keith state as the younger man finally wandered out of his bedroom, familiar red vest creased from sleep, "thought he would still be here."

"He left about an hour ago," Shiro informed him, not looking up from his nearly-finished drawing as Keith made his way to the cereal cupboard, "he had a morning class, something about not being late again." He quirked an eyebrow, finally glancing up at Keith. "I thought you were avoiding him at all costs?"

Keith shrugged, tipping himself a bowl of cereal. "I was," he replied simply, "but I wanted to talk to him."

"And threaten him?"

Another shrug. "Maybe."

"Nice." Shiro sighed, turning back to his drowning as Keith decided to sniff the milk bottle in the fridge. "I bought that two days ago, it's good milk."

"Just checking," came the reply, and minutes later Keith crashed next to him on the couch, cereal in hand despite the fact it was nearly midday.

"Were the blades alright yesterday?" Shiro asked gently - Keith's tabletop gaming group were notorious for their skill, but were easily some of the most intimidating people Shiro had ever met.

Keith nodded, swallowing his cereal before turning. “They’re fine,” he answered simply, “Ulaz is pissed because his nursing placement terminated early, but other than that, they seemed fine - is that nearly finished?”

Shiro frowned, and finally focused back on the tablet that was in his hand. Keith was right - it was practically done, only small details left that Shiro knew that if he started one, he’d be there all day. “I think so?”

“You gonna’ post it?”

He wasn’t sure about that; the thought hadn’t really passed his mind. Lance hadn’t said anything in particular, but it was probably a better idea to check.

“I’ll ask,” Shiro replied, saving the drawing and fishing his phone out of his pocket, “I’d like to, but I don’t know if Lance would be okay with it.”

Keith hummed nonchalantly, turning back to his cereal. “Cool.”

 **[11:54] Shiro:**  
_I finished the drawing!_

 **[11:57] Lance:**  
_Akshkajskajs NICE MY DUDE_

 **[11:57] Shiro:**  
_[Picture message sent]_

 **[11:58] Shiro:**  
_Do you mind if I post this on my art blog? I won’t put your name, don’t worry_

 **[11:59] Lance:**  
I _TS AWESOME YOUR ART IS FANTASTIC I LOVE IT AND YOU_

 **[11:59] Lance:**  
_And sure!!!!!!!!! :D_

* * *

  
**BlacklionChampion just posted a photo post - >**  
_A quick warm up of a man who's made my life pretty great recently. Posted with permission!_  
_(And don't worry, I'll return to that good GoLion content soon!)_

* * *

  
It wasn't until after Shiro came out of his seminar later that day that he realised his phone had been bombarded by messages. As per usual, he hadn't checked it since he flicked the silence switch on the side, and he opened it two hours later expecting the usual bored texts from Lance and, maybe, a message from Keith asking him to bring back something from the grocery store.

Instead, it unlocked to tumblr messages, texts from Lance, Keith, and Matt, missed calls, and a missed FaceTime request.

Instantly, it felt like a vice in his throat. What if he'd been outed, doxxed or threatened? Had someone found him, insulted him?  
What if-

Possibilities were flying through his head as he practically fell through the doors of the familiar, practically empty milkshake parlour, too busy making sure his phone didn't slip out of a shaking hand to care about the surprised customers he barrelled past. He nodded to the barista - Romelle, he was relieved to see - and slid into his familiar table.

 **[15:35] Lance:**  
_Shiro what the actual fuck, I never actually expected..._

_[_ **15:35] Lance:**  
_[(5) missed calls]_

**[15:37] Matty Boi**  
_Dude what the fuck_

Tumblr wasn't a much better picture. The app's icon was showing a double digit number of notifications, and a sharp intake of ice flooded his vice-like lungs.

**[BlueSharpshooter sent a post]**

**[BlueSharpshooter]** _how did you get this_

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _When did you make this_

 **[BlueSharpshooter]** _like that's me dude_

**[BlueSharpshooter sent a picture]**

**[BlueSharpshooter]** _How did you find me_

There were many more messages after that, loaded in the chat log that he hadn't scrolled down to read yet, but all Shiro cared about was the photo.

It was, without a doubt, Lance

Lance, with mussed hair and puffy skin and a panic in his eyes. Lance, his Lance. The Lance he spent last night with and most of this morning.

The next thing Shiro knew, his phone was to his ear, a familiar dial tone running through his head.

_"Shiro."_

"Lance," he breathed, reaching up to grip the phone with both hands, "I'm sorry, I never realised, I-"

 _"Just stop,"_ the voice snapped, but the sniffles that the tinny tone of the speaker couldn't mask dissolved any anger that could've been in the words, _"why didn't you tell me?"_

Shiro released the breath he didn't realise he was holding, leaning back in his seat to run one hand through his hair nervously. "Lance, please," he repeated, aware he was practically pleading now, "I'm at the Crydor Creamery, just - meet me there? I want to explain, properly-"

The phone clicked dead, and Shiro was left with silence.

"Rough day?"

Shiro glanced up, suddenly aware of the woman standing over the table. She held a hot cup of what smelt like coffee, setting it on the table as Shiro grimaced.

"Something like that," he replied with a sigh, sending Romelle a tired smile, "it started well, but it-"

"Just got worse, I know what you mean," Romelle replied, accented lilt adding a surprisingly jovial hint to it, "but oh well, we carry on."

With a hum, Shiro turned back to the coffee, a weary eye on the front doors. "True," he admitted, earning an amused chuckle from Romelle, "I hope you're right."

"I will be," the Barista admitted, ruffling Shiro's hair playfully, "if not, that latte should help a bit - nothing but the best for my regulars."

A soft sing echoed through the shop, both Romelle and Shiro turning immediately to the door. Lance had gingerly made his way in, college hoodie wrinkled and creased.

"Looks like your man's here," Shiro heard Romelle muse, "good luck, sounds like you'll need it."

With that, she returned to the counter, giving Shiro one last hopeful grin before Lance was all he was aware of.  
The man in question hardly gained eye contact, instead focusing on his hands clasped in front of him as he slid into the chair opposite Shiro.

"I guess I have some explaining to do?"

Lance nodded, barely glancing up. "You kept _that_ a secret-"

"I was scared," Shiro interrupted, leaning forwards in his seat, "I was scared you would judge me for it, okay? I didn't think something like this would ever happen."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Of course you didn't-"

"Hey, you're not completely innocent either," Shiro quickly countered, watching as Lance's frown morphed into one of shock, "you don't know how much I panicked after the milkshake date fic you wrote."

"What?"

"I thought Blue was a stalker," he explained, and Lance grimaced slowly, "that's why I stopped talking to him - to you."

  
“Yeah? Why didn’t you godamn say that? You could’ve fucking asked-“

“I was _terrified_ , Lance. It wasn’t that easy.”

  
Lance fell silent at that, eyes averting suddenly. The quiet was thick, heavy and tense, and it was twisting Shiro's gut into tight knots. He didn't know if Lance was going to get even more angry with him; he was regretting arguing, only now realising now much worse that probably made the situation.

Instead, Lance bit his lip, and put one hand flat on the table slowly.  
"Sorry."

_Sorry?_

"I'm sorry for getting mad at you," he continued, slowly - finally - looking up at Shiro, "I should've given you chance to explain - Hunk always says I jump to conclusions, so, sorry, I guess."

"You say that as if I don't," Shiro replied with a weak laugh, tentatively laying his own hand on top of Lance's own like some kind of olive branch, "I automatically assumed Blue was a stalker, I think that counts as jumping to conclusions.”  
Lance laughed at that, and Shiro had never been happier to hear him laugh in his life.

“I guess that makes us even,” he admitted, giving Shiro a small smile, “I- I want us to keep going though, with us being honest this time, okay?”

“Does that mean I’m allowed to post about us being together?” Shiro asked cheekily, a sudden rush of joy sparking through his veins, “I think people will be rather happy to hear we’re actually dating.”

Lance clicked his tongue, faking distain and rolling his eyes playfully. “Gotta’ do it for the followers, I forgot, I’m so sorry!”

“If it were anyone else I wouldn’t bother,” Shiro replied with a grin, “I’m- I’m glad we’re not over.”

Lance smiled, properly this time, and Shiro felt the familiar rush of warmth he feared was long gone.  
“Same,” he agreed earnestly, “I don’t really want to lose you so soon.”

Shiro’s coffee had probably gone cold by now, but he didn’t care, too taken by the man sitting across from him to notice.  
Maybe it was their first fight, if it even constituted that, but they had survived. Together.

“Promise you won’t keep this kind of stuff hidden now?” Shiro asked, lifting his hand slightly to let Lance wrap their hands together.

The other man nodded, sniffing gently before squeezing Shiro’s hand. “Promise.”

“Want to come back to my flat?”

“As if you even have to ask-“

* * *

Several years later, their argument had been practically forgotten, lost to the winds of time and stories to laugh over at parties.

  
It had been a long day.

Admittedly, Shiro should’ve known that when he took the job. He’d been up to his elbows all day in drafts and research texts and his own notes, only really being sent home by a coworker who was slightly concerned about his sleep levels.

It was when he was driving home that it hit him.  
Shiro and him had gotten so far; seven years later and they’d survived, survived everything from failed exams to finals induced breakdowns, arguments over groceries to the inevitable attacks from less than tolerant members of society. Sure, they’d had to move - admittedly not far, but relocating to the next city over was a bit of a test, particularly without Hunk and Pidge beside him like he’d always had with house moves - but now they were closer to the coast. The small animation studio that had hired Shiro was a bus ride away, and Lance was able to jump between the coast and his editors office in a half an hour drive depending on the traffic.

It almost made the years spent working in low-paying retail, saving and scrounging and being rejected from flat after flat for nearly three years worth it.  
Okay, neither of them were doing quite what they thought they would; Shiro’s art never quite took off in the way he wanted it to, and Lance failed his PhD that he wanted to get so badly. Shiro had been through more jobs than he could count, Lance had spent a year living on Hunk and Shay’s couch after their debt finally got to them.

Somehow, despite it all, they’d ended up here, happy and together.

Before Lance knew it, he was opening the door to their flat, a cosy attic flat in a townhouse conversion with the pastel blue door that Shiro had practically begged the landlord for. It wasn’t big, wasn’t posh like Keith’s new studio flat. But they’d bought the couch together with his Mama, and painted the walls together in a messy, colour splattered day that ended with them sleeping on an air mattress in the centre of the sitting room.

It was, without a doubt, home.

He grinned, shutting the door behind him and meandering into the lounge. With a sigh, he dropped his bag by the couch, and barely a second later, he crashed onto the pillows, running a tired hand through his hair. Part of him was hungry, but he knew he should wait for Shiro; the other man was likely going to be as exhausted as he was, and Friday night was always pizza night.  
His parents were coming around next week as well, so they really needed to tidy at some point, give the carpet a good hoover - he also needed to shave, and convince Shiro not to cut his hair since it was long enough to plait now. Mama would probably want to know how the book was going as well, and they’d need to buy a nice dinner to do that night-

The clicking of the front door snapped Lance out of his thoughts, opening his eyes that he didn’t realise had closed.

“No, don’t move,” a quiet voice urged as Lance began to bring himself to stand, “you look exhausted, my love.”

A sudden cold hand appeared in his hair, metallic fingertips massaging against his scalp, and he hummed contently as he felt the couch dip beside him.  
“Yeah, it’s been pretty busy,” he replied with a grin, letting Shiro snuggle up beside him, pressing their bodies together as Lance shifted to let him pillow his head on Lance’s chest, “Nyma wants the final draft in on Tuesday, and then it’s done, and I never have to look at those books again.”

“What will you do after?”

Shiro had a point, one that struck Lance quiet. This book, an informative work on coastal biology that his friend Rolo had asked him to help on, had been his life for the past two years, whether it was spending hours at the coast, gaining data and hands-on experience, or holed up in front of a computer.

“I got an email from that seal sanctuary, they still want workers,” Lance mused, earning an inquisitive hum from Shiro, “I know it’s not as well paying, but it’s a job, and it’s gotta’ be better than working at Sea-life-“

They shared a laugh, Lance revelling in Shiro’s rumbles that seemed to vibrate through the sofa itself.  
“You know money isn’t an issue anymore, particularly once your book’s out,” Shiro assured, still in that quiet tone of voice that Lance felt could calm him from anything, “they seemed like lovely people, and it’s no less closer than your work is at the moment.”

Lance shrugged, moving one arm from the top of the couch to wrap around Shiro. “That’s true,” he agreed, moving his other hand to comb through Shiro’s shoulder-length tresses, “educating kids about seals sounds pretty great actually.”

“And you get to spend time with Jarvis, don’t forget him.”

“Of course,” Lance replied with a laugh, thinking back to the blind grey seal that Shiro became fond of during their last visit, “I’ll pass on your love.”

Shiro grinned, tilting his head up to look at Lance. “Thank you.”

Lance only got a brief look at Shiro’s beautiful stormy eyes though, before a pair of lips connected with his in a lazy kiss, letting his eyes flutter shut and hands to roam through Shiro’s hair.  
Their lips moved slowly, occasionally parting for breath and comfortable giggles, never once truly separating the two as Shiro’s arms snaked around Lance’s middle and allowing a glowing warmth to ignite through Lance’s veins. All he could see was Shiro, with the hint of peppermint chocolate on his tongue and coffee in his lips, with the blush of rouge over sharp cheekbones, dark circles under his eyes that Lance mentally vowed to help him sleep away later.  
Maybe, he thought, lost in the sensation that was Shiro’s lips on his, Shiro’s hums of pleasure that seemed to drum through his entire body, they could have a spa day tomorrow, lose the hours to each other and the gentle scent of body scrub.

“I need to put the pizzas in the oven,” Lance finally forced out, slowly pulling away from Shiro as the other ducked for breath, lips swollen and shiny.

“No.” Shiro pouted, collapsing back onto Lance’s chest. “I’m comfy.”

“Well you can get comfy again once I come back, and in twenty minutes, you can be comfy and full of food,” Lance countered, earning a grunt from Shiro as he pushed himself up to allow Lance to move, “sound good?”

Shiro responded with another grunt, which Lance took as agreement and laughed. “I’ll be right back big guy, don’t worry.”

He knew where the pizzas were in the fridge, flicking the oven on as he walked past. Hopefully they wouldn’t burn this time, he thought as he carefully took each one out the packaging, since last Friday him and Shiro got a bit carried away and forgot about them until the fire alarm went off.

Barbecue chicken for him, meat feast for Shiro, both in the oven for twenty minutes at two-hundred. At least this oven worked, unlike the one at their previous flat that took an extra ten minutes to cook anything.

That was when his phone buzzed.

 **BlackLionChampion-Art just posted a new photo post**  
_So Lance, what do you say?_

This was intriguing to say the least, mostly since Shiro hardly ever posted on his old art account. Golion had ended shortly after they started dating, and Shiro’s original art never got as much attention as his old fanart, so he somewhat gave up on it. Okay, he posted occasionally - mostly little warm up doodles or teasers for his studio’s upcoming project - but it was still a bit of a shock to see his name in the caption.

He opened the notification, leaning back on the counter. The page almost didn’t want to load, the three squares lingering on his screen for what seemed like an age.

Until he saw it.

There, on the screen, was a simple drawing. Sven and Isamu, dressed in what must’ve been formal Arusian party wear, in a field full of juniberries.  
Sven was down on one knee, proposing with a black studded ring, Isamu looking over with a face of elation and shock.

Shiro had always been so good at conveying emotion.

Shoving his phone onto the counter, he stumbled out of the kitchen, into the living room, to see Shiro stood with his back to the door. In the setting sunlight that was streaming through the balcony windows, he looked almost ethereal, dusted in a blanket of silken gold.

“Takashi?”

Almost on cue, Shiro span slowly, grinning over at Lance with a look of fake courage, smile on his face but fear evident in his eyes.

“So, what do you say?”

He swallowed nervously, and Lance followed the bob of his throat down to the black box that was in his hands.

“Are you seriously proposing to me, on pizza night, in our front room, whilst I’m in possibly my grossest clothing ever and you probably haven’t showered in three days?”

Shiro shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I wanted the most romantic night to do so - thought this would be perfect.”

He couldn’t possibly be closer to the truth.

Lance hardly registered his feet leaving the ground before he was aware of him pulling Shiro in for a hug, peppering his stubbly face with kisses.

“You amazing, dumb man,” Lance breathed, taking Shiro’s hands in his, “of course I’ll marry ya’, what the hell did you think I was going to say?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shiro replied quickly, barely able to get the words out from behind his excited breaths as he fumbled the box open, “I hope this one’s okay, I know you love the infinity style, and-“

Lance silenced him with a kiss, covering the box with his own hands.  
“It’s perfect,” he replied, pulling away to let Shiro take his left hand, “how did you know my ring size?”

“Hunk told me,” Shiro admitted, sliding the ring on slowly so that Lance could admire the blue stone in the light, “with the price that he’s the only person we’re allowed to ask to bake a wedding cake for us.”

“I wouldn’t ask anyone else anyway,” Lance said, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s middle, “I love you so much.”

Shiro laughed, relief evident on his face as he pulled Lance into his chest. “I love you too, you know that, fiancée.”

“Pizza and then bed?”

“Sounds _perfect_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank y’all sm for reading!!!!!
> 
> And now for the wonderful fanart that goes with this!!!!!  
> Enrika’s art: https://dyinginjapanese.tumblr.com/post/180767335599/oh-and-your-barista-boy-matt-quickly-said  
> Nogu’s art: http://nogurt-p.tumblr.com/post/180770124985/excuse-me-can-i-help-you-a-voice-called-from
> 
> Please go and show these amazingly skilled artists your love, they deserve nothing but the best <3


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